


Warm Hands

by ticketlove



Category: Ticketlove(band)
Genre: M/M, THE ONLY FIC ILL EVER WRITE LITERALLY EVERYTHING ELSE IVE DONE FUCK OFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticketlove/pseuds/ticketlove
Summary: The one where yori and hiroki wake up together. ugh invented romance





	Warm Hands

Yori feels a warm hand wrap around his side, at first resting itself by his stomach, and then trailing up into his shirt and feeling for exposed skin. It’s not sensual, per se, it’s quite gentle and sweet, but it makes Yori blush, digging his face further into the pillow his head rests on, trying to hide the expression that none can see anyhow. Hiroki’s knee bumps against the back of Yori’s leg as he bends it, and then, slowly, Hiroki’s leg comes up in a pivot to wrap around Yori. “Hiroki,” Yori starts, his voice muffled through the pillow and under blankets. He speaks softly, his voice coarse from unuse after the hours of sleep. “...what time is it?”

Hiroki pulls Yori closer, tighter, and Yori can’t complain. “Hmmmm~?” Hiroki lets out a little hum, playfully, and Yori can feel the exhale on his neck, warm. Hiroki’s hand on his stomach, warm. The chaste kiss Hiroki gives to the back of Yori’s head, warm. Yori’s face, flushed, warm. Everything is warm, like home. “Does my prince want to leave so soon~?” Hiroki says, teasingly, and Yori can’t tell if the nickname is insulting or endearing. A price. Is that what he was? And Hiroki was his knight?

Yori giggles. “C’monnnnn…. dont say it like that.” He pouts. He can’t see Hiroki’s expression from behind him but he gets the feeling he’s smiling. “Rai’s gonna wake up soon and come looking.” Yori shifts, slightly, leaning up to get his arm out from under his side where it was beginning to go numb, but in his attempts he disrupts the harmony and Hiroki pulls his hand away from Yori’s stomach. Cold again. 

“Let him look. It’ll be funny making him look dumb.”

“I don’t want to worry him.”

A pause. 

“Just a little longer.”

Another pause. 

“Hiroki……”

A warm hand returns. A squeeze.

“Alright.” 

Yori had, in all honesty, not even had the intention of sleeping next to Hiroki in the first place, but nothing is ever that simple with him, is it? His intentions were to finally catch up with Rai, who had been so busy with his own work that they hadn’t seen each other in awhile, but after Rai fell asleep and Yori started wandering his way to the bathroom one thing turned into the next and he was getting dragged back to Hiroki’s room (not reluctantly, may he add, though).

Footsteps sound down the hallway, getting closer and then passing. It could be one of the maids, of course, passing by on the way to gather laundry, clean the home, deliver food, what have you, but also, Yori knows, it may have been Rai, confused and tired, passing by without ever considering Yori had taken to Hiroki, curled up in his arms, warm and safe, loved and protected. 

The clock ticks and tocks. Seconds pass. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Yori stops counting. 

“You know…..” Hiroki says, dragging out his words. He usually does, elongates his syllables, makes everything drawn out and long, mocking or playful or teasing or whatever other effect he may be trying to create. Hi hand goes up, up above Yori’s stomach and trailing his chest. “We don’t have to just lay here.” 

Hiroki rolls himself over and above Yori, and Yori moves onto his back as Hiroki plants his knee between Yori’s legs for support. The hand that isn’t roaming Yori’s chest is planted next to his shoulder. Yori goes to say something, but the words get caught in his throat, coming out as nothing more than a little mewl that makes Hiroki go wild. 

No matter how many times they do this, no matter how many times their lips meet and their bodies press together, Yori is always embarrassed, always turns his head to look away at the closest opportunity, always flushed and protesting, vulnerable and shy. 

Suddenly, unfortunately, Yori’s phone goes off, startling Hiroki and the two pull away from each other. Yori grabs his phone off the bedside table as Hiroki rests his head in the crook of Yori’s neck, closing his eyes and staying still through the sheer force of self control as the screen lights up and displays a name. Raimen. 

“Where are you!?” Rai says, the instant Yori picks up. His voice is loud, boisterous, and sounds so loud that Hiroki can probably hear it too. 

“Ehhh… B-Bathroom.” Yori says, a lie, and Hiroki laughs. 

“Who are you with? Who’s laughing? “ 

“Nobody, Rai, I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a minute, Alright?” Yori hears footsteps, again outside the door, and quickly ends the conversation. “I’ll see you then-” 

“WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT-” Rai says, quickly in succession between the time Yori pulls his phone away from his head and when he gets his finger on the button to end the call. Yori lays the phone down on the bed next to him and his hands go up, fingers interlocking behind the back of Hiroki’s neck. 

 

The footsteps outside approach, until Yori knows the person is right outside, and he cringes even before the door is thrown open, and Rai, in pyjamas, still holding his phone up to his head, yells. 

“YOU.”


End file.
